


The Sweetest Flowers (Icicle Remix)

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: F/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-07
Updated: 2007-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:47:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rogue was not most people, and she would never be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweetest Flowers (Icicle Remix)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Aliaspiral's [Slacker's Remix challenge.](http://aliaspiral.livejournal.com/212219.html)  
> **Original Story:** [The Sweetest Flowers](http://www.strawtogold.net/white/sweetestflowers.html) by storydivagirl.

_ She was wedged into the in between time of life as Marie and a life as someone doing something. For the time being, she was no one._

For most people, voices in their head other than their own meant they were crazy. For most people, watching to make sure there was no skin to skin contact wasn't vitally important. For most people, being a teenager meant love and kisses and _touch_ and whining about school and being taken to the prom.

Most people didn't have to worry about killing someone with just a touch, about carrying their voice in her head for ages afterward. Most people didn't have to think carefully about their life or how they dressed in the morning.

Rogue was not most people, and she would never be.

She hated that she kept pushing Bobby away. There was only so much that someone could take before they left without looking back. Kitty was a normal girl. Sort of. She could touch, though. She could kiss and touch and strip down naked and press herself skin to skin...

That was definitely a place that Rogue didn't want to go to. She kept the voices in the back of her head ruthlessly quiet. She had enough of them for now. While _Titanic_ was running, she could mope and whine and be herself, whoever that was. She didn't have to worry about touching anyone or killing anyone or pretending that everything was going to be okay. She didn't have to smile and joke and make everyone else feel as though they didn't have to coddle her. She knew what her mutation meant, thankyouverymuch. There was no need to dance around it and talk about it in euphemisms like a cancer patient. She knew what her life was going to be like, how empty it was going to be. She _knew,_ and no pretending or well meaning flattery was going to change that. There was no way to unknow this, no way to reverse it, no way to pretend it didn't exist. If the other kids did it long enough, someone was going to get careless and get themselves killed.

She didn't need that kind of guilt.

Rogue walked back into the mansion, avoiding all of the main hallways that she might meet someone in. She didn't want to talk to anyone, voices in her head or live voices. Things would just be easier if she didn't need anyone. She could be an Ice Queen, not needing anyone or anything. Self-reliant, self-assured, self-motivated.

Basically, someone she wasn't and could never be.

She wished she could still be Marie. She wished she could go back to that time before her stupid mutation kicked in, before she could kill someone with just a touch. She was just Marie then, just another ordinary girl with ordinary girl wishes and abilities and talents. Now she was a mutant grim reaper, an eater of souls, a bringer of misery. Marie would have cried if someone had been able to convince her ahead of time. Rogue pushed a hardened shell around herself, an amalgam of Logan and Eric and John, the toughest bits and pieces she had been able to absorb. Rogue shouldn't care what others thought of her. Rogue shouldn't care about ordinary wishes from an ordinary girl. Rogue should want to be special, should want to be different and dangerous and powerful, someone difficult to push around.

Still, she wished she could be Marie again, if only for a day.

Rogue started in the doorway to her bedroom. Bobby was there, leafing through her physics textbook, idly waiting for her to wander back into the mansion. He looked up at her with that smile he had, the one that made her weak in the knees and praying to be Marie again. That smile made her want to kiss him, want to press her skin against his and take in the warmth that he offered her with his sunny smile. That smile had been her undoing, breaking her resolve to never grow close to anyone again. That smile had been the one to make her rethink things, wonder if maybe the Ice Queen wasn't such a good thing to be.

"You were right, you know," Bobby said, closing her textbook. "That movie is just as awful the twentieth time around as it was the first." He watched as Rogue wandered into her bedroom and sat down on her bed. "Did the fresh air help?"

_Yes. No. I don't know. I can't think anymore..._ Rogue wanted to say, but she shrugged instead. "I guess it's okay."

Bobby moved to sit down next to her on her bed. Rogue tried not to remember how it had all started for her, alone with a boy in her bedroom. She tried not to remember the panic as she realized what she had done, as well as the thrill of the force that had pushed inside her. No, those were not memories she liked to dwell on.

"It's okay, you know," Bobby murmured. He dropped his hand over her gloved one. He twined his fingers through hers, seemingly unperturbed by her lack of response. "I know what I'm getting myself into. I know what we're doing. You don't have to worry about protecting me all the time."

"Look, Bobby..." Rogue began.

"And I've been thinking about it," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "And it's really only skin to skin contact that makes your powers kick in, right?"

Rogue nodded dumbly, an icicle piercing her heart. _Oh my god, please don't do something stupid, Bobby,_ she prayed silently, unable to move her lips to form the words. She could barely even breathe. _Please, God, don't let him do something stupid. Don't make me kill him. I care too much about him..._

He dropped her hand and went to her closet. "I admit it, I was a little nosy. You took your time outside, you know? Almost a full hour."

He had been counting. He was watching. Rogue felt her chest tighten further, the icicle wedging itself deeper inside. _Fear. I know what this is. I know what I'm afraid of..._

Bobby brought out a gauzy, filmy scarf that Jubilee had given her for her birthday. It was some sheer white thing to wrap around her neck for a formal occasion that would match her long white gloves. Jubilee respected the fear that Rogue carried around her like a shield. Jubilee never said what had happened, but she had been afraid of her own powers, too.

Bobby pressed the scarf against Rogue's face and kissed her on the lips.

The edge of fear curling around her heart suddenly blossomed into a full blown iceberg. She couldn't move, was frozen still as he caressed her face through the thin material. She could feel the heat of his skin, the warm wet feel of his tongue against her slack lips. She could almost taste him, the peppermint of the gum he had been chewing after dinner.

There was no pull of her power, no life force leaping under her skin and adding another voice to the repertoire in the back of her mind.

As the realization kicked in, Rogue slowly lifted her hand to his face. She traced his cheekbones, aware that the gloves on her hands were too thick to allow her to feel the warmth of his skin. Lace would be too thin and have too many holes, and this sheer gossamer material would never last long enough as a pair of gloves. The fear within her ebbed somewhat, buoyed by the fact that Bobby wasn't gasping for breath or pushing away from her.

She pulled away slowly, almost panting. Her eyes were dazed, and she had to blink a few times to refocus on Bobby's smiling face. She blew out a breath, testing it, but no cloud of condensed icy air formed. Her lips curled into a smile, and her hand cupped the back of his neck.

"You don't have to be afraid," Bobby murmured, touching her face through the scarf. "I know what I'm getting myself into. I'm not afraid of this." His grin grew rakish, and Rogue was suddenly reminded of Logan. "It just means we have to get a little creative."

"Creative?" Rogue repeated dumbly. Her mind hadn't quite completed its circuits yet.

"Mm-hm," Bobby murmured. "Lay back, let me show you."

The door was closed, right? Right. And everyone was going to be busy for a while yet, almost two hours. _Titanic_ was a long movie, and there was nothing else for everyone to do.

Bobby carefully rearranged the scarf over her face. Rogue tried not to feel uneasy, that if it worked once it would work again. She tried not to feel as though the scarf was a shroud, that it only presaged their future. Wasn't white a funeral color in some countries?

And then he kissed her again, hot and open and wanting, and her mind shut down completely.

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans and he undid the button. Rogue's gloved hands caught his wrist, suddenly afraid. "Bobby..."

He kissed her, gently detangling her fingers from his wrist. "Trust me," he murmured against her lips. "I'll be careful."

Closing her eyes, Rogue let go of him and wound her hands through his hair. His fingers brushed over her, the cloth of her panties the only thing preventing her from devouring him whole. His lips were warm against hers, tongue pushing through the thin fabric to touch hers. He moved slowly against her, taking his time. Bobby wasn't rushed, wasn't pushing Rogue any faster than she was already afraid to go.

When nothing happened, Rogue opened her eyes and searched his face. She touched him, hesitantly at first, then with more curiosity. She wasn't hurting him, and he was looking at her as if she was a delicious dessert he couldn't wait to sample. The thought sent a bolt of heat curling through her, his touch suddenly much more electric than it had been. She _wanted_ to explore him, she _wanted_ to touch him and see if she could make him gasp the same way he was making her breath stop. She wanted to know if she really affected him that way, if he could truly want to try to make this work. Rogue clutched his shirt in her gloved fist when the pleasure became too intense, too startlingly blinding. She tensed, curled around him, the thin gossamer scarf the only thing between their faces and necks. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, could hear the blood rushing past her ears. It felt like she was climbing somewhere, some place she hadn't been before, some place she had never expected to be.

Bobby caught her when she shattered and fell back with a startled cry. He laughed as her breath slowed, his face pressed against her neck through the scarf.

"What's so funny?" Rogue asked, brows knitted in confusion once she could breathe. "That was amazing, Bobby."

He rose up above her, resting on his elbows. "You know, it only just occurred to me. We'll never find out if you spit or swallow."

Rogue smacked his chest as she made a playfully disgusted noise. She wound up laughing along with him, horrified and amused at the same time. Just another thing she would never be able to do with him, something else that made her unlike every other girl in the world.

"Unless..." Bobby began, almost uncertainly. Rogue searched his face, seeing the anxiety there. "Well, if there was cloth in the way, right?"

She smiled at him suddenly and sat up. "You are such a horndog, Bobby."

"What?" he cried playfully. "I'm a guy! I have to wonder these things!"

Rogue took up the fallen scarf. She wanted to thank Jubilee suddenly, and ask where she got it. She needed to buy a dozen more, at least. Enough to cover her entire body. Or Bobby's. Blushing at the thought, she looked up at him through her lashes. Reaching out with the scarf, she covered his face with it and then kissed him through the fabric. "I'm liking how you think."

He grinned at her goofily, sending her heart into a pitter-patter of expectation. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm... I'm scared, I won't lie. But I want to try, I really do." She smiled at him, hoping that he would want to stick with her for a while.

His grin turned from goofy to heart melting. "Me, too. I'm with you, Marie."

Whatever shred of ice within her was gone as her smile widened. He would stay with her. He would try to make this work. They would figure out a way that she could still be Marie, too, and not have to worry about killing him.

She linked her fingers through his. "We'll be creative," Marie promised.

Movie nights were going to be _amazing._

 

The End.


End file.
